


Gone

by Oneandonlylila



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Artist Steve Rogers, Heavy Angst, Hurt Steve Rogers, M/M, Minor Injuries, Post-Civil War (Marvel), Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Tissue Warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-22
Updated: 2016-10-22
Packaged: 2018-08-23 21:15:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8343034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oneandonlylila/pseuds/Oneandonlylila
Summary: The funeral went by in a flash. Steve couldn’t tell exactly how long it was, but he couldn’t bring himself to think too much of it. He didn’t even get a chance to shed a tear because his heart was still trying to grasp what happened. There was no time to process as everything came so quickly.  
He's gone. 
He's not coming back. ~~~~To quote Sebastian Stan "Make sure you're hydrated".





	

**Author's Note:**

> My best friend is the one to proof read all my fics, and this one has caused her to hate me for a few days. So enjoy :D

Bucky's funeral went by in a flash. Steve couldn’t tell exactly how long it was, but he couldn’t bring himself to think too much of it. He didn’t even get a chance to shed a tear because his heart was still trying to grasp what happened. There was no time to process as everything came so quickly.  

He's gone. 

He's not coming back. 

Steve was numb by the time he got back to their apartment. He stood in the foyer, not really knowing what to do with himself. He looked around, examing the small, cozy living space that he and Bucky had put together. Everything he looked at reminded him of his love.  

Steve went to their bedroom and layed in bed, motionless. Not answering his phone, which he didn’t even know was long forgotten on the bathroom counter. He couldn’t bring himself to even get undressed and before he knew it, he was fast asleep.  

Steve woke up in a start, panting and shaking with a tear stricken face. A nightmare. Or was it a dream? He couldn’t bring himself to decide. He rolled over, expecting to see Bucky still sleeping, his hair splayed over his perfect face, his mouth slightly open as he quietly breathed. But when he rolled over, the bed was empty. He let out a shaky breath as he covered his eyes with his arm.  

_~A_ _few days later~_  

When Steve entered the bathroom, he stopped infront of the sink and splashed water on his face. While drying off, he glanced down and spotted the blue toothbrush. Bucky's toothbrush. Bucky would of came up behind Steve, wrapped his arms around his torso and planted a sweet kiss on his neck. Steve looked at his reflection, wrapped his arms around himself and bit his lip.  

After his shower, he checked his phone. 10 missed calls, all from Nat and Sam. At least they didn’t come knocking on his door. He decided to give them a response to put them at ease.  

_I'm_ _okay. Just want some time to process._  

While going into the kitchen, Steve turned the coffee pot on and opened the cabinet to grab a mug. Without paying much attention, he grabbed the red one that said "Oh Captain My Captain". Bucky gave him the mug just a few months ago for his birthday. Steve rubbed his thumb over the print, then placed it under the Keurig and started the machine.  

Continuing to make himself breakfast, he grabbed his full cup of coffee and moved it to his waiting lips. Before the coffee even had a chance to touch his tongue, a loud ringing entered the apartment.  

_Crash!_  

Steve jumped and dropped his mug of coffee. Ignoring the person at the door, he stood there. Once again motionless, letting his toast burn in the toaster oven, his eggs get cold, and the coffee burn his feet. Standing there, not moving, Steve let out a strangled moan, but didn’t let himself cry.  

Steve bent down and picked up the biggest piece of the mess. Flipping It over, he read "My Cap" on the shard. Quickly picking up the mess and throwing away the broken mug, he attempted to have coffee again, picking out the mug that had "Mrs. America" printed on it. Bucky's matching mug of the set.  

Once Steve was finished with breakfast, he refilled his mug with coffee and went to sit on the couch. His normal spot, the left side, facing the sliding glass window that had a great skyline view. As he sat staring at the outside scenery with his mug to his lips, he moved his free hand to his lap, but stopped short. He had expected to feel flesh and bones on his lap, 2 feet crossed at the ankle resting in his lap, and a basking Bucky in the sun's warmth that spread to the right side of the couch. His head would be thrown back, eyes closed and throat exposed, making Steve's heart flutter. But there were no feet in his lap. And there never will be again.  

Steve put the mug down on the coffee table before he breaks that one too. To distract his mind, he decided to sketch outside. Grabbing his sketchbook and materials, he went outside to sit on the balcony. Opening the sketchbook to where he had It marked, he paused and put his head in his hands.  

The most recent sketch, of which was not finished, was of Bucky. His best friend. His love. Steve sat at the table, staring at the incomplete sketch of Bucky sitting on their bed, staring off into the distance, but looking at Steve enough to have started to capture all his facial features. There were drops of water appearing on the sketch as he looked at it, one and then two, three. He was crying and he didn’t even realize. When one tear fell on Bucky's unfinished face, he let out a choked sob that he was keeping in for so long, one where people all the way down the 10 floors below the balcony could have heard.  

Its been days since the funeral and it's all catching up to him now. Everything that has gone wrong has his heart finally catching up to reality. His heart is realizing that he's really gone. And he's not coming back. Steve stroked the sketched face he can still clearly see in his mind, the real thing. He's never going to share a bed with him again. Never going to feel his lips. Never going to touch his face. Or run his hands through his hair. Or hear his hearty laugh. Or hear him say I love you. 

Steve covered his eyes with his hands to keep from dropping more tears on the already stained drawing. His heart was racing so fast and he could hardly breathe. Everything came crashing down all at once and everything that was once so neatly hidden away was surfacing. Outside their balcony, where anybody could see, Captain America was breaking down in a loud uncontrollable sob. But he couldn’t bring himself to care.  

For his fiance was dead.  


End file.
